Restitution by Kathy Kacer Page B

back to Paris. When the details are in place, I’ll arrange your visas through the consulate there,” he said, bowing slightly. “Thank you again for the lovely evening.”
    Within days, Victor called his wife at a prearranged time on a public telephone to report that the monetary transaction with George Harwood had been completed and the entry visas to Canada would be issued. Karl didn’t know how much money had passed between his father and Mr. Harwood, though he believed it must have been a sizeable amount. What was important was that one more hurdle had been cleared to enable them to leave.
    With the visas seemingly secured, Marie turned her attention once more to acquiring the exit permits, the final and perhaps most important documents standing in their way. It was dangerous to try to arrange a meeting with the Gestapo. Notwithstanding the power of attorney in the hands of Alois Jirák, Marie knew that she would risk having to disclose their family fortune if she were to meet with Nazi officials. And she worried that by concealing their wealth, she was jeopardizing the safety of her family. If the Nazis were to discover this deceit, not only would they confiscate the estate, but they would probably also arrest the Reisers. The Gestapo did not need a reason to take a Jew into custody. Marie could chance none of this.
    But the pieces were falling into place, one by one. Once again, Marie cast out her net and pulled in contacts. She discovered that in the town of Zlin there was a Gestapo official who, like George Harwood, was known to take bribes. This was all she needed to know. She awoke early one morning and announced to her children that she would be traveling by train to Zlin, staying there overnight, and would return later the next day.
    â€œI haven’t even told your father these details,” she said, before leaving the villa. “Better not to worry him too much more.” Though Victor had remained in Paris as per his wife’s wishes, the stress of being separated from his family was taking its toll. Marie knew this from their telephone conversations and she in turn worried about her husband’s health. “I’ll give him the good news tomorrow, after I’ve got the papers in my hand,” she said brightly.
    Karl wondered if her optimistic attitude was merely a front for the anxiety that she surely must have been feeling. He too was anxious for his mother’s safety, though he could not state these concerns. He watched her, wondering how she was ever going to pull off this feat. What Gestapo official would agree to meet with a Jew, let alone a woman? But Karl knew that his mother had already proved herself capable of accomplishing the impossible, and Karl prayed that this journey to Zlin would be no exception. When he saw her striding confidently up the sidewalk toward their apartment the following evening, he knew that she had accomplished her mission.
    â€œI’ve got them,” she announced jubilantly as she entered the villa and grabbed her children in a fierce embrace. “Imagine! It only took a few minutes.” She went on to describe the trip. The train ride to Zlin had been the most anxiety-provoking part of the journey. In every car, Nazis patrolled the aisles or mingled with passengers. Marie’s greatest fear had been that she might be asked for her papers and questioned. It would have been difficult, under Nazi scrutiny, to hide her religion. But the trip passed uneventfully. Perhaps the guards had passed her by because she looked so refined. Several actually had nodded at her and she had forced herself to paste a smile on her face as she hid her trembling hands in her lap. In Zlin, she proceeded to Gestapo headquarters, and asked to speak to the official whose name she had obtained. He saw her immediately.
    â€œLike being close to the devil himself,” Marie described. “That’s what it felt like in the room with that man